<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Art Of Longing by Roselina4389</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482873">The Art Of Longing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselina4389/pseuds/Roselina4389'>Roselina4389</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action &amp; Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselina4389/pseuds/Roselina4389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Petunia Evans saw him after many years, was when he had been standing outside her front door, his face unrecognisable and dripping tears, eyes full of anguish and anger and hurt and accusation, and his dark hair falling into his eyes. He had not been there for her, but it almost seemed like he had been. Like Petunia had meant to see him, to lean over the staircase railings and watch the argument between him and her younger sister and feel a burning, resentful longing in her chest and a curiosity that only grew the more she suppressed it. Petunia knows they are more similar than they think, and that what she feels for him is something she has never felt for someone before, but can lovelorn Severus look past her sister and love another?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley/Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Art Of Longing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is a rewrite/reboot of my original story Unspoken Wishes. I tried to improve my writing, get rid of any plot lines that didn’t make sense and just overall upgrade the reading experience. I hope you enjoy it. Please comment what you think :). </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Early July, 1978</b>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nineteen year old Petunia Evans didn’t feel quite like herself on the drive back home. She felt almost queasy, despite not having been able to manage much of her steak and fries at the high-end restaurant she had just been to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did what she always did when her nerves failed her: a deep breath in, through the nose, and then a gentle exhale through the mouth, three times, more if necessary. And happy thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happy thoughts, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petunia thought desperately, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like the time I got that dress last year on my birthday, or my first kiss in secondary school, when I was thirteen, or when I got my first pet in kindergarten...the goldfish that died a week later—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia blinked, and as she did, realised that a few, traitorous tears had dripped down her face. Swearing under her breath, Petunia swiped at her eyes angrily, and glared resolutely out of the window so that her sister would not see her. The lights on the buildings seemed to blur together into one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you like him, then, mum?” Lily was saying, her tone laughing, as she and her mother continued a conversation they had started since their father had started driving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was lovely, Lily. Respectful and courteous, as always.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, wasn’t he?” Lily said eagerly. “Didn’t think he had it in him. That’s the most behaved James has </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>been. Those table manners!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s definitely shaping up to be a responsible young man,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia glanced at her sister, taking in her sleek, auburn locks and velvety black dress. Lily looked like a picture—black eyeliner and maroon lipstick that matched her hair and a dress that looked like it was made for her, her curves generously flattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it all paled in comparison to the expensive, glittering diamond ring that sat on her finger, the jewel emitting its own ethereal glow. It glinted almost tauntingly as it caught the light, as Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Congratulations, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petunia had said, when her sister had announced the big news. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside she had felt like she had been clubbed in the stomach. Those voices she had struggled against all her life seemed to whisper to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s younger than you, and engaged first.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s beat you again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily’s smile had been blinding. When had Petunia ever smiled like that? In nineteen long years, she couldn't remember a time when she had not been under her younger sister’s shadow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forget it! I should be happy for her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the lavish dinner party with Potter, Lily’s untidy-haired, rather conceited-looking fiance’, had left a gap. It seemed to have unraveled something inside of her, triggered emotions she had not felt for years. Despite the good food, and the expensive glasses of wine they had all been treated to, Petunia had not enjoyed her night. It had been hours of watching Lily and … </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter </span>
  </em>
  <span>gushing over each other, gazing at each other adoringly, laughing at each other’s jokes. She had listened to Potter confidently tell her parents, her father in particular, how rich he was, how influential, and just how perfectly suited to their younger daughter. Petunia had had to bite back one too many nasty remarks, school her look of disdain into indifference, neutrality. And although Potter had been polite towards her, and eager to know more, Lily had clearly clued him in about their less-than-warm relationship and his subtle smirk told her all she needed to know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looks down on me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If that had not been enough, Petunia had had to endure Potter’s obnoxious presence without uttering a word of protest. They had drunk a toast, and her parents had blessed Lily’s marriage, while Petunia, left out once again, had glanced at her empty ring finger, and realised with self-contempt that she was older and had ought to get married first, not Lily! Where was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>prince charming? Why did Lily have hers already, a man who clearly adored her and was rich to boot?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia had figured that Lily would be bombarded by admirers the moment she stepped foot into her stupid school, but wasn’t it more than a little overdue for her</span>
  <em>
    <span>? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Where was the love of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>life, proposing on the train back to King’s Cross, right before she left for Cokeworth? Lily’s engagement story was wildly romantic, Potter taking her into an empty compartment and asking her to marry him on bended knee, offering her the most expensive diamond ring she had ever seen, hugging her at King’s Cross station and promising to write, and visit, even invite her over and take her on trips in the magical world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll travel, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had promised her sincerely, or so she’d said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Every last place you can imagine in the world. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their mother had gently asked Petunia to keep aside any grudges, and be happy for her sister. But why was it so difficult? Petunia had been asked to “be happy for her sister” all her life, and she was sick to death of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lily </span>
  </em>
  <span>got to do magic, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lily </span>
  </em>
  <span>got to go to a fantastic boarding school in London, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lily </span>
  </em>
  <span>got to be prettier and more popular and have more friends and be smarter, and be more talented and…and be </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing Petunia did or achieved seemed to come close, and she was starting to feel like she would always be left in the dust, watching helplessly as her sister climbed higher and higher to greater success. The itch to compare their lives was tempting, dangerously so. Petunia busied herself with fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist, steadying her breathing. This was not the first time she had felt like this...There were days when Lily’s report cards and teacher remarks would be so full of praise that she would not even bother trying to show hers, too. She had always had a sneaking suspicion that their parents favoured the younger woman, and sometimes forgot that they had an older daughter too, albeit much less spectacular. No matter how much her parents reassured her that they loved, and admired, her the same, Petunia knew in her heart that if they had to choose between her and brilliant, vivacious, beautiful Lily, they’d pick Lily in a heartbeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it. I should just be happy for her! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> like him, Tuney?” Lily was looking at her now, the silly smile that had been gracing her face all night still present. “You haven’t said much,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s alright,” Petunia said carelessly, trying to appear nonchalant. “...Didn’t reckon he was your type, though,” She added after a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I say? What’s that saying again? Opposites attract?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia could tell that Lily was trying to be amiable, not taking offence at her words. Always the peacemaker. It made a spark of defiance run through her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad you’re happy,” She averted her eyes from Lily’s. “The two of you will be very happy together, I’m sure,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When everyone has gone to sleep, and the house is still and quiet, Petunia opens her bedroom window and sticks her head out into the cool night air. The sleepy town seems almost enveloped by the gentle sounds of chirping crickets and hooting owls and zooming cars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia wants to scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a knot in the pit of her stomach and for once, Petunia is almost afraid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hasn’t felt like this in years. Why now? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know why, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s because everything has always come easy to Lily, and has always been a struggle for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia remembers the memory as if it were not several years old, but a scene that had occured only yesterday. Twelve year old her, sitting at her desk with a pen and paper, writing furiously with her nose scrunched up in concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m her sister, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she had written feverishly, hoping that being so closely related to Lily would give her some sort of advantage, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I would study very hard and attend all of the lessons. I’m very good at school and I could learn </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything</span>
  <em>
    <span> you give me, I promise. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The letter had been addressed to Albus Dumbledore, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Petunia had exhaustively penned down every achievement of hers to date, from her natural ability with seventh grade math, to her teacher’s remarks of her being attentive and careful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just as clever as Lily. I hope you will give me a chance. Please give me a chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you </span>
  </em>
  <span>begged </span>
  <em>
    <span>him to let you come!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lily had snapped at her once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Beg? I didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>beg,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>begged. And when she had found out that her letter had been read, she and Lily had had to be separated for weeks, such was her rage and embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lack of magic was like a deep ache in her chest, an ache that had never been quenched, no matter how many pretenses she put up, showcasing herself as somebody who hated magic and anything out of the ordinary. All her life Petunia had longed to be special, to be a witch just like her sister...even if she denied it passionately. And despite being an adult now, it still felt like something simmering beneath the surface, a desperate craving that would overflow and spill out of her if she did not leave the place of her misery, and leave it all behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every year Lily would leave their small town and go to London, and come back on the holidays looking happier than each time she left, while Petunia toiled away over trigonometry and geography in ordinary “Muggle” school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m just as good as Lily. Better even. I may not be able to make sparks fly from my fingers or levitate my school books or study in a fancy school but I’m still just as smart as she is, just as…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good-looking? Well, Petunia doubts that. Her sister’s gentle curves, effortless charisma and bright green eyes were inimitable. She could never compare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She twists her neck in the cool night air, relieving the ache and flicking her long hair out of her eyes. The melancholy settling into her is new and potent, and no matter how hard she tries, Petunia cannot help but feel dislodged—out of place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels like a puzzle piece from another box, a piece that simply doesn’t belong, not in this white-washed house in Cokeworth, with her sister and parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would she always feel so disillusioned and directionless, or would her life, someday, change?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another long night out, Severus is exhausted, and he lets out an indulgent, almost satisfied sigh as he lies on his back on his threadbare sofa, watching the flickering artificial light above him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His limbs feel sore, and his head heavy, and he knows that the alcohol flowing through his blood will contribute to a mighty headache the next morning, but he can’t help but feel he had a productive night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s made a discovery; potions sell quickly in Knockturn, especially if you have a middleman. A quick, simple brew—for witches and wizards who are busy, engaged in other jobs, or incompetent—and there are a handful of galleons right in your pocket, if the broker deems your work is good enough. Severus knows that to get your own shop and brewing license is to work your way from the bottom, and get an apprenticeship—only given to the best of NEWT Potions students—and endure years of training and learning and authoritative, demanding masters. If one survives, he finally gets his license to brew independently and can start his own business.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or work for someone else, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Severus thinks idly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>But that’s the last thing I’d want after a long and gruelling apprenticeship. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apprenticeships were notorious for knocking the fight out of most people. But this, although frowned upon deeply by polite society, was such a quick fix that Severus was almost surprised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It goes down to the black market, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his friend had told him once, </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why the broker buys it so cheap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Severus hadn’t flinched. He’s not new to dark schemes and avenues; in fact, he can almost say that he’s familiar to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, he knows that he has to get a proper job now that he’s finally graduated Hogwarts, and has even gotten himself his own flat to live in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not living with his Muggle father in his unhappy childhood home is a dream come true. Severus had always been afraid of him as a child, choosing to spend most of his time outdoors, watching, playing, exploring. Not that Cokeworth had much to offer. Spinner’s End was chock-full of factories and miners. It was distinctly unmagical, and home to labourers and working-class men with their working-class families. When Severus had shown proclivity for books and reading, rather than hard work and labour, his father had only been disdainful. And as he had grown taller, and older, and increasingly hot-tempered, he had often got into loud screaming matches and heated arguments with the older man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not anymore, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Severus thinks firmly. He doesn’t need anyone. And he’ll never have to unwillingly endure anyone again. Besides, he does better on his own, even if he’s had some help with the flat…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucius Malfoy had been very generous on Severus’s eighteenth birthday. A few thick wads of birthday cash and the advice to spend it wisely, and Severus had, unlike many others in his position, not touched a galleon of it until recently. He had moved out of his house in Spinner’s End, taking all of his scarce belongings with him, and then rented out a small flat near Cokeworth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And for now, he had a bed, and a stovetop, and a place to put his books and quills, as well as a shabby sofa to sit on and spend hours poring over books. Three rooms—bedroom, kitchen, living-room. Dingy but personal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One step after another. All he had to do was take the first one, and then the other, and things would slowly fall into place. And this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a great first step—he had finally moved out! He had finally gotten himself a place all to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus pauses, frowning. He can’t help but remember his mother’s last words to him before he’d left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know you think you’re going to be better off somewhere else,” His mother had been putting the kettle to boil and not looking at him. “Somewhere bigger, out in the wizarding world. I know you hate this place and think yourself above it. But something always brings you back to where you started off, so you’d do best not to forget where you came from.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus does everything to forget. Cokeworth holds nothing for him. He is not destined for this, for a lowly life in a small, inconspicuous Muggle town, surrounded by Muggles, and by memories he’d rather forget. He belongs to the world of magic, and wizards, and potions, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>opportunities. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had always seen magic as his ticket to freedom, and yet, he had never felt recognised for anything despite his best efforts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus Snape didn’t care where he came from. He cared about where he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks into his bedroom later, swaying slightly, and sits down on the mattress. He unties his boots, struggling with the thinning laces, and throws them across the floor, not caring if he’s making a mess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll sort it tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls off his robes, then his T-shirt, and then, shivering slightly, reaches for his pillow and pulls it under his head, sighing appreciatively at how soft it feels, the relief it provides to his aching shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He always works up an appetite at the bar he and his friends frequent most nights. Amongst multiple drinks and sandwiches, they exchange news, tidbits of priceless information, and dangerously tempting offers...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s getting powerful, and he’s offering all that glory to his followers</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mulciber had said proudly, in a conspiratorial whisper. Severus had scarcely been able to hide his eager grin at the word: </span>
  <em>
    <span>glory.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All his spells, all his research, all his alterations and discoveries and ideas...Actually amounting to something, and proving as more than just the inane scribblings of an overeager, overconfident student.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve got loads to offer,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had said in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good. He sees potential that no professor in Hogwarts ever could. And he rewards it. He actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>values </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic and it’s sanctity, unlike Dumbledore,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mulciber had replied, looking sure of himself</span>
  <em>
    <span>. “He’d probably assign you a top role from the get go, Snape, if he thinks you’ve </span>
  </em>
  <span>actually</span>
  <em>
    <span> got something solid to offer.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus rolls over to his side and closes his eyes, fighting the sleepy look of satisfaction from spreading across his face. He is actually moving forward now. He is actually making something of himself for once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And this flat has, strangely enough, given me all the confidence in the world. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The best thing about it, in fact, was how close it was to Cokeworth, only a fifteen minute walk away from—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t say it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks suddenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus rolls back, now flat on his back, and stares blankly above at the whitewashed ceiling. He raises a pale arm to his forehead, now thinking fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was the past too, wasn’t she? </span>
  <em>
    <span>The past, never coming back, nothing to do with the present..</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the images are moving before his eyes now: Thick red hair and bright green eyes and a lofty voice, eyebrows raised when she catches him staring at her, a dreamy and lopsided smile on his face as she belatedly realises that he hasn’t been listening to a single word she has been saying for the past five minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She prods him in the ribs and he yelps loudly, sitting up at once, “What was that for?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“For not listening!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was</span>
  <em>
    <span> listening,” He says, honestly enough. “Was listening to you the entire time,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And thinking about something entirely different whilst you were,” She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible, Sev.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He flushes, fighting down thoughts of what he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had </span>
  <em>
    <span>been thinking about, none of them being appropriate enough to share.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like thoughts of pushing her against the tree and having his way with her, having her look at him adoringly, the same way she does sometimes, but beyond the scope of friendship, more than just sisterly affection.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thoughts of kissing her, and having her head roll back, her pale neck exposed, and his lips grazing across it, leaving lurid marks that take weeks to fade, her gaze never leaving his, turned away from Potter’s...And she is looking at him and saying something, not about Mulciber or Avery, but—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lily breaks his reverie with her piercing voice: “You’ll never understand me, Severus,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus suddenly flinches. Where had </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>come from? She hadn’t really said that, had she? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feeling uneasy, he tries to close his eyes and think of something—anything—else. But the alcohol has done it’s work and the memories are now flooding him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potion classes and studying in the library and watching her in the hallways when he was sure she wasn’t looking, and comparing notes, and sitting in the grass, and watching the floating clouds drifting off in the endless blue sky...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And her anger, and disgust, and rage, and refusal to meet his eyes, and looks of disdain when she saw him with his friends, and silent treatment, and pursed lips, and stiff expression, and arm looped around James Potter’s…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dammit!” He yells loudly. “I don’t care!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s just a girl.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet no matter how many times Severus whispers this feverish statement to himself, it doesn’t satisfy him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has never felt this way before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You fancy her, you idiot. You’ve fancied her for years.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And even though he had known that she was lucky enough to have many to choose from, he had always been encouraged by the fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they </span>
  </em>
  <span>were friends, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> lived next to each other, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been the first one to teach her about magic. But despite his possessiveness, Lily was not somebody who could be ‘kept’. She was social, whereas he was reserved, and popular, whereas he was reviled by many. She seemed to disappear further and further away with each passing year, until getting a hold of her was almost impossible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Makes me want her all the more, though, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And she’s the most brilliant witch I know, and I want her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily was the past, and although Severus had been certain he was rid of the past, every fibre of his being knew that he could never be rid of Lily. She was the ghost in every room. And she would always be there, out of reach, tempting him to come closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus thus finds himself concocting a plan as he washes up after breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been two years. Surely, Lily’s anger towards him would have mellowed down by now? She was less than fifteen minutes away, and he could easily go to her house and talk to her, convince her to befriend him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>After all, he had cleaned up his act. He was determined to succeed, and a lot more responsible than he had ever been. He spent hours scouring </span><em><span>The</span></em> <em><span>Daily Prophet </span></em><span>for jobs and positions, and had even moved out of his parent’s house. She was bound to be impressed.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus stepped away from the sink, and levitated the washed dishes back into their cupboards. He was almost buzzing with enthusiasm, and immediately went bolting for his bedroom, to shave and don some new clothes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If everything went well, he would win her back and everything would finally go back to normal. And that was what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going </span>
  </em>
  <span>to happen, if he had any say in the matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Several Days Later...</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia really liked her room. It was a respite, especially now that her sister was here to stay, at least until Potter whisked her away or something. She could spend hours doing her makeup, or reading one of her many books, her multitude of romance novels proudly decorated on her shelves. She liked them even more than magazines, and she was an avid reader of those too. She would often be found lounging on her bed, or the living-room sofa, and flicking through the glossy, brightly-coloured pages as if they contained state secrets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And besides, her room held her record player and box of albums, and Petunia knew that she could be entertained for hours, just listening to music, and reading the latest celebrity scandal, lying on her stomach with her legs crossed in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today, her parents had gone out on an errand and Lily was still downstairs, doing God knew what. So for now, Petunia was free to do as she pleased, and she was currently in the middle of an elaborate daydream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew that she wasn’t happy, and had not truly been for some time. And thinking about her future husband, and their family together, and how she’d decorate their house, and the honeymoon they’d have in some exotic foreign country helped raise her spirits...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia couldn’t help but sigh dreamily, now imagining her well-adjusted, perfectly stable, hypothetical husband asking for her hand in the most romantic of locations—an expensive restaurant, or in the London Eye, or in an exquisite foreign location they’d go to together, like Paris or Venice or— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A strange, muffled sound suddenly broke through her daydream, and Petunia flinched, staring warily at her bedroom door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are mum and dad back home?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another loud sound, this time sounding a lot like Lily’s voice. Petunia strained her ears, trying to listen for it again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There it was once more, loud and sharp. Like an argument. Petunia couldn’t help herself; she pushed herself off the bed and walked towards her door, carefully pulling it open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sounds were suddenly much louder. Petunia almost tripped in her haste to make it to the staircase, as an impassioned argument filled her ears:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never let me have my say!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a male voice, full of hurt and accusation and anger. It was deep and baritone, and held so much raw emotion that it made her heart flutter in spite of herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard enough!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lily, you always do this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Taken a look in the mirror lately, Mr </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death Eater?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause and Lily finally snapped, “You don’t have to show me your arm. You’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>planning </span>
  </em>
  <span>on becoming one, aren’t you? Deny it, Severus!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? You want me to discuss my political allegiances out here in the open? Bit risky that, no, Lily?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Convenient,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just listen to me! I’m not asking for much, am I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re asking for a lot,” Lily sounded like she was holding back tears. “You’re asking for me to forgive someone who hates my kind, wants my race exterminated—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d never hurt you,” He interrupted fiercely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sev—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never. I could never,” He implored, his voice rising an octave. “You know how much you mean to me,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A silence. Petunia felt her heart skip a beat at the words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yeah?” He sounded more encouraged when Lily didn’t answer. “So forgive me, Lil. I know we argue a lot, and don’t always see eye to eye—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These are my values, Severus,” Lily cut through him acidly. “Not some schoolyard arguments,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, but…” A small hesitation. “We’ve always stuck together, you and me. And I can’t imagine not doing that now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia had carefully padded halfway down the stairs by now, as quiet as a mouse. She felt like she was snooping on something deeply private and personal, yet she could not bring herself to stop, to go back upstairs to her bedroom, and stop looking at the tall young man standing at their doorstep, who was making her heart beat faster in spite of herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sounds so earnest...Like he really cares about her. I’ve never really seen something like this before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that thought, she made her way down the rest of the stairs and hid behind a tall houseplant, getting a much better view of him and watching him intently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...He was tall and lanky, dressed in black, with long, dark hair that fell into his eyes. His gaze was full of longing as he looked at Lily, his cheeks flushed with emotion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did she feel like she had seen him before? Petunia couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she had definitely seen him somewhere...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...For Merlin’s sake. Don’t drag this, Lily,” He was saying angrily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one stood out here, and for your information, Severus, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to drag this any longer!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Severus? That was a name she had surely heard before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water had been upended over her head. She gasped out loud, unable to stop herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No way!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know who that was!  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was that Snape boy!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia was reeling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snape? </span>
  </em>
  <span>How could it be…She hadn’t seen that awful boy since her early teens...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, he wasn’t a boy at all anymore, she thought, suddenly flushing. He was very tall, his legs absurdly long in their dark fabric. He looked lean and angular, nothing like the small, scruffy boy she had pushed about when they had been little. His face even held a little bit of bristle, and his voice was low and deep, and his gaze mature and earnest—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he had just changed so much! Petunia couldn’t believe just </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>much. It was unbelievable to see the boy she had hated and ridiculed so mercilessly look and talk like that, so passionately, with so much feeling and newfound maturity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it was having a strange effect on her. She was listening to him as intently and fervently as if his words were aimed towards her and not her sister. She almost wished he wasn’t saying them to her at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Just leave, Severus,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving,” He protested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are, unless you want to be hexed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lil, I’m not leaving. I mean it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My parents—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care about your bloody parents!” He snapped. “I care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you really did you’d accept the fact that you’ve chosen your way and I’ve chosen mine,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...All I’m asking for is another chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I gave you countless, you git,” Lily showed the first hint of vulnerability now, and Petunia watched as Snape’s look softened at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. You’ve always understood me, Lily. When did that change?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Severus…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you tell how I feel?” He asked with feeling, his voice catching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Severus!” Lily looked away, her ears red. “You’re just making this difficult for the both of us,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s difficult for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Having you hate me! When all I could think about, when we were apart, was you,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily was shaking now, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Don’t!” She said shrilly when he made a small step towards her. “Don’t come closer,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at a loss for words, “...Don’t cry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t help it, can I?” She retorted harshly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape stared at her blankly, his earnest gaze only making Lily’s tears fall faster. The redhead let out a tiny sob. His face seemed to crumple too, then, and he looked away furiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get it, Lily. You’re better off without me,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...You need to find your way back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m right where I need to be.” He sounded stubborn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. You’ve changed, and I can’t see you like this, Severus, defending your actions and making excuses for the Dark Arts. I can’t,” Lily turned away from him, making clear she meant it, and he didn’t reach for her now, but watched her stonily, as tears now fell freely down his own face. Petunia felt like something had pierced her heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lily...” Snape mumbled weakly, and seeing her resolutely not meeting his gaze, his shoulders slumped. He slowly stepped away, off the doorstep, his face a rictus of grief and anguish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Lily kept her mouth firmly closed, he shot her one last ferocious look, a look that took Petunia’s breath away with its intensity. His face was filled with passion, his eyes brimming with emotion, red-rimmed and full of bitterness. He looked like his heart had been broken beyond repair, and his fierce, anguished gaze was breathtaking. Even hidden behind the plant, Petunia’s heart fluttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snape stormed away, outrage and betrayal marring his features, and Petunia stepped away from her hiding spot behind the plant, and watched as Lily turned around to look at her with tears in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily can’t hide her anger at her, and she glares at Petunia, wiping at her tears angrily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much did you see?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A lot of it,” Petunia offers unhelpfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell mum and dad.” Lily takes a shuddering breath. “Please,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lily looks at her in surprise. “...You won’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but only if you tell me what that was all about,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just Snape,” Lily says nastily, looking annoyed. “Being a git.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>Snape?” Petunia wants to be sure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, am I missing something here?” Petunia presses. “Were you two…dating?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” Lily flushes violently. “We were just friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels like Lily is hiding something from her, but knows she can’t push her, not now. A strange jealousy is coursing through her and she has no idea why...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Are you really not friends with him anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not friends,” Lily says firmly. “And you should stay away from him too, Petunia. He’s dangerous,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>XXX</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many days later, Petunia found herself still thinking about what had happened. She couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts, couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Snape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was crazy. When she had been younger, she had absolutely hated Snape. She had mocked and insulted him and even done her best to make him cry by insulting his family and shabby clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now, she couldn't get him out of her mind. The look he had given Lily...His tear-ridden face. The entire scenario kept replaying in her head. She couldn't stop marvelling at how much Snape had changed. How much he had grown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scowled. She had to get over it. What was wrong with her!?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But no one… no one’s ever looked at or spoken to </span>
  </em>
  <span>me </span>
  <em>
    <span>that way before…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hundreds of questions were racing through her mind, including memories she had not recalled in years. Snape’s visits to the Evans household had become increasingly infrequent until he had stopped showing up at all. He and Lily had been as thick as thieves, and she had never been included in their adventures, reduced to watching Snape’s eyes linger on her sister’s every movement, greedy and eager and adoring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was not until now, years later, that Petunia actually felt a strange ache thinking about it. She...she couldn't be </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>could she?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no way. She hated Snape! He was a freak, just like her sister, even moreso. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But something about the disastrous altercation from a few days ago had haunted her, and she found herself ruminating on it for hours on end. It almost felt like the unearthing of buried feelings, emotions she had tried so hard to suppress. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>curious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia knew that Lily and Snape had stopped being friends a few years ago, when Lily had been fifteen. Something had happened over their year in school and Petunia had noticed that Snape was nowhere to be seen that summer, no longer hanging off her sister’s every word, trailing after her devotedly, taking her on secret adventures. She had wondered what had caused this change, but Lily had not revealed much except that they were no longer friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia’s first reaction had been malicious joy. She had always envied their close friendship...hated how he had taken her away from her and made Lily prefer his company more...Petunia had almost blamed him for everything…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then why was she still thinking about him now, his intense gaze, his new maturity? Why had she found him almost attract—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What am I thinking? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Petunia shook her head in disgust.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’ve lost the plot completely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petunia didn’t know much, but what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know was that she secretly wished, in the depths of her heart, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the one to receive such doting words and adoring attention...and that once again, felt helplessly and bitterly jealous of Lily and her good fortune...but this time for a reason she couldn’t quite grasp.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>